


Frozen (Extended)

by NovembersGuest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovembersGuest/pseuds/NovembersGuest
Summary: This is a drabble that wanted to be more, but never turned into a multi-chapter. Dean suffers from hypothermia and illness.





	Frozen (Extended)

They’d been walking for miles. Nothing but a sea of white behind, nothing but a sea of white ahead. The only other things, besides the endless white-wash of snow, were the sky-scrapping oaks and pines on either side of them. His soggy clothing had frozen stiff in places and ice crystals were beginning to cling to his stubble where his breath ghosted out on exhale. His feet had by-passed excruciating blocks of pain to settle into a sort of blissful numbness.  
  
But the worst, what he hadn’t told Sam, was the breath in his lungs now seemed to be frozen along with the rest of him. It was getting harder and harder to draw in the frigid air, reducing him to a sort of gasping pant. He guessed it hadn’t helped that he’d already been sick before coming out here to this godforsaken deep freeze.

Dean didn’t know how much further he could go. His legs were near mutiny and his head felt like his feet—blissfully numb. The only thing that’d kept him going until now was the fear that if he quit, so would Sam. Sam, who was doggedly pushing ahead, determined to find them shelter. His brother was the only reason he kept moving, but with each halting step, he forgot why that had seemed important. A single thought had blossomed and grown into a chant beating out a steady rhythm in his head. _Sam’s only chance was to go on without him_.

As if fate agreed, his boots collided with some unseen object hidden beneath the blanket of white and he felt himself pitching forward, sprawling out face first in the snowy bank ahead. Sam must’ve heard the commotion and finally stopped his dedicated march long enough to turn and call out, “Dean?”

Man, he was so friggin’ tired. Maybe he could just let sleep sweep him away from the pain and exhaustion—just lie there and let it come, stop fighting it so hard. It seemed as good a place as any… But Sam was waiting for a response and that was enough. Dean forced his rubbery arms to push himself into a sitting position. With a sinking heart, he knew had to convince Sam this was the only way.

“J-just l-leave me,” Dean stuttered, making no attempt to stand. “It’s o-over, Sam. I’m d-done.”

“No. No way.” Sam covered the few feet separating them. “You have to keep going. Gotta get you out of those wet things and find shelter.”

Sam was using his comfort-a-victim voice, soft and encouraging, but Dean recognized it for what it was—fear. He cursed himself for his weakness, shaking his head slowly.

“C-can’t. C-can’t feel m-my feet anymore.” Dean said. “It’s o-over. I c-can’t.” _I can’t **breathe**._

“Yes you can,” Sam knelt in the snow and ducked into Dean’s line of sight, resting a hand on his brother’s knee. “C’mon, Dean, this is just the hypothermia talking. Remember? Dad always said your head is your worst enemy in this situation. You can’t give up.”

Dean braced himself for the sharp pain of inhaling and pushed out, “No. No, S-sam. Th-this is it. I’m d-don—” his throat closed off with a deep, rasping cough that had him gagging and breathless before it was done.

Sam moved his hand in soothing circles on Dean’s back, his face tightening. When Dean was able to draw in enough breath to go on, he whispered, “Can’t. N-no, more. Just l-leave me.”

His brother’s hand stilled, then abruptly, Sam stood. He paced away from Dean and stood with his back to him. Suddenly he turned and stalked back. Sam’s voice shook and his hands waved around in frustrated jerks. “How can you even ask me that? Huh? I can’t just _leave_ you. You wouldn’t leave _me_ behind—I’m _not_ leaving you.”

Dean shook his head again, anger strengthened his voice to a near shout, “What p-part of I can’t freaking walk anymore d-don’t you understand? I can’t. Do. It.” He ended on a wheeze and suddenly his panting was sawing in and out in loud gusts. Dean pressed a hand into his chest as if that could help relieve the oppressive weight there.

Alarmed, Sam dropped to a crouch, a hand curling around Dean’s arm. “Dean? What’s is it?”

Gasping, Dean grit out, “I’m okay. J-just hard to…to breathe. You’ve…got—got…to leave me. Please.”

Sam’s head dropped, hand sliding away to hang between his knees. He stood up, facing Dean with his shoulders slumped, clouds of frozen vapor fogging out between them. Sam swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

He didn’t even bother asking, just grabbed Dean under his arms and pulled him up to a stand. Then bent, gripped Dean’s wrist and pulled him across his shoulders, hauling him into a fireman's carry. Sam trudged forward with unshakable determination in every step he took, as if Dean was nothing more than a well-stocked pack.

Embarrassment burned in Dean’s cheeks, made his chest heavy with shame. “Put me down. Now, Sam.”

“No,” Sam huffed, “we’re in this together. I’m not leaving you behind. No one’s dy—staying behind.”

Dean’s free hand curled in his brother’s heavy coat, stabilizing his weight, trying to make Sam’s burden easier. “Don’t…be stupid… I’m too heavy.”

“Yeah? Tough. Just—” Sam shifted Dean more evenly across his shoulders, “hang on and stop talking. Can’t carry your heavy ass and talk at the same time.”

After a few minutes of nothing but the wind, Dean’s intermittent coughs and Sam’s boots crunching in the snow, Dean tentatively ventured, “Sam?”

“Yeah?” Sam's head turned toward him.

“M’ sorry,” Dean breathed.

Sam halted a beat, then resumed walking, saying, “Dude, nothing to apologize for. I’ve gotcha. We’re gonna be fine.”

 

The End.


End file.
